In our home we call Ravenholm,
everyone is on edge; no one is calm
No one knows how hard it is, to be a zombine
because all we wanna do is give gifts and be kind
All we want to do is give our grenades
and chortle our lovely, but creepy serenades
No one understands us, how we feel
We come to greet you not eat you
we dont think of you as a seven course meal
we run because we are excited to see others
our fellow combine, with love; we try to smother
But no one is very kind, so now we have changed our minds;
we are going to ensue the destruction of combine
and any remaining humans...
We live to die, and now you my friend;
are soon going to be mince..meat...pie.
